Mirror
by Tori of Lorien
Summary: AU.  Does a mirror always show us the truth?  Or does it show us what we hope or dread to see?  After Agamemnon returns home after the fall of Troy, he is greeted by the most unlikely person.


**Mirror**

**Summary**: AU. Does a mirror always show us the truth? Or does it show what we hope or dread to see? When Agamemnon returns home after the fall of Troy, he is greeted by the most unlikely person.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own any of the characters from Troy.

**A/N**: My 30th story! Hey! This is just a really weird, abstract idea I had one day and I thought I'd get it out there. So, please be nice! Anyway, the title of this fic is symbolic. I hope you catch it! If not, ask me. Lol! Anyway, enjoy!

The war was over. Though he had not gained the land because Troy had burned to the ground, he had still won. And because of his victory, his name would be remembered forever.

These thoughts were on Agamemnon's mind as he quietly entered his dark palace. He unfastened the sword from around his waist and set it on the rack against the stone wall. He then removed his cloak from around his shoulders and hung it up next to his weapon. Agamemnon headed up the staircase nearby, looking forward to seeing his wife again after being gone for so long. But as he walked down the hallway, he noticed that something wasn't right. The king slowed to a stop as he looked around him at the dark, empty hall. It was too quiet.

Agamemnon anxiously looked around him, not seeing any of his servants coming to him to fulfill his command. He walked forward, his anxiety rising with every step he took, every breath he took. He quickly opened the door to his room and saw that his wife was nowhere to be seen. The king looked around his room, lit only by the small lamp hanging over his large mirror. His fear mounted. What had happened while he was gone?

"I see that you are loving the glory you believe that you have received from battle, Agamemnon."

Agamemnon whirled around, looking at his room fearfully. He would know that voice anywhere… It was impossible. It couldn't be him, it just could not be…

But he saw no one in the room with him. The king sighed with relief as he stood before the large mirror hanging on his wall. The voice he had thought he had heard had been spoken so softly that he could have easily imagined it. It must have been the stress from the war that he was feeling. He was only hearing things.

But then, Agamemnon cried out in horror when he looked into the mirror. The small light hanging above it cast its light down on the king, but that is not all that it showed. The form of a man was standing behind him, wearing the traditional blue color of the Myrmidon. A white seashell necklace hung around his neck, his golden hair falling down to his shoulders. The light caught his mouth and jaw, but the rest of his face was covered by the darkness of the room.

But that was all that the king needed to see to know who this man was. His face paled in horror as he looked at the warrior's reflection in the mirror, hoping to see more of his face to know for sure that he was merely seeing things. This man had served under him for a short time during the war, but he could not be here now, breathing and living.

"No… you cannot be here. It cannot be you!" Agamemnon shouted in fear. "You're dead. Dead!"

"Am I?" the man asked, revealing a sword that had been hidden behind his back. "Well, you're the reason that my cousin is dead, _my king_."

Agamemnon looked into the mirror with mounting fear. He had heard tales that the great warrior was invincible, impossible to kill. Maybe, just maybe he couldn't die after all…

The king turned around to face the man, the warrior's name dying on his lips as the sword blade went through his chest. Agamemnon looked up into the Myrmidon's shadowed face, the last thing he saw before his gaze became frozen as death took him.

The warrior removed his blade as the body of Agamemnon limply hit the hard ground. He walked forward a little as he looked down on the motionless king, the light finally falling on his youthful face.

"It will be my cousin's name that will be remembered forever, Agamemnon," Patroclus muttered, looking angrily into the blank eyes of the king, "not yours." Then, he reached up and turned off the light above the mirror, hiding his face again as he left Agamemnon and his palace behind.

**A/N**: As I said, an abstract plot bunny. I hope you liked it! Thanks for reading. Your reviews are much appreciated.


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